


High Tide

by anderscones, BakerBitches, smutmuffin



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Mermaid!Sherlock, Sailor John, Sailor!John, mermaid sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-10
Updated: 2014-08-10
Packaged: 2018-02-12 15:35:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2115360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anderscones/pseuds/anderscones, https://archiveofourown.org/users/BakerBitches/pseuds/BakerBitches, https://archiveofourown.org/users/smutmuffin/pseuds/smutmuffin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sailor!John finds an injured Mermaid!Sherlock and takes care of him.</p><p>Inspired by a commission done by sweetlittlekitty.t.c for octopieces.t.c, which can be found at:<br/>http://sweetlittlekitty.tumblr.com/post/92076504488/</p><p>The commission was tagged as teen!lock</p><p>I did not notice this until I started on this publishing, so I apologize that this is not actually teen!lock. If you squint a little, I suppose it could be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	High Tide

**Author's Note:**

> I forgot to mention upon posting that there are probably a few [read:many] inaccuracies regarding the time period. It's supposed to be set in the late 1700s, and I apologize ifsome of the information on John's sailing is incorrect.

The spray hit John in the face, making him both flinch and smile. It was much too cold to be on such a low cliffside, but he loved the sound of the sea, the feel of the harsh air on his face. He and the members of his crew had just returned from a three-week adventure, bringing in port for their small town. Already, he wished to be back on their ship. They all poked fun at John for practically never leaving it, even when they docked. He’d have drinks in the local pubs and mingle with the women around- they were impressed by his strong sailor arms and the patchwork he made of his crewmates when they were injured- but he’d return to his bunk in the crew quarters to sleep instead of using their room and board. It made no matter to him, and whoever he was bunking with certainly had no problems with an empty room.

 

John glanced down into the waves beneath him, taking in the white-grey foamy undulations of water. There were a few small odds and ends crashing against the wall beneath him, which wasn’t strange. People lost plenty of things in the waters, and they’d always end up moving left and right along the coast instead of floating out to sea. He could see a net swishing in the water below, and it reminded him of the ones they kept onboard.

 

He was abruptly pulled out of his thoughts by a yell coming from the waves underneath him, and he strained his eyes trying to make out the source between the waves. He caught a glimpse of a hand darting out of the net, and realized that the screams came from a dark haired figure just under the surface.

 

Without hesitation, John shucked his coat and shoes. Throwing anything that could weigh him down to the side, he ran to the arch of the cliffside, keeping on only his trousers and thin undershirt in the hopes of protecting himself from potentially sharp-edged items in the water. Getting a running start, he dove from the overhang. When he made contact with the water, the icy temperature was a shock to his whole system that made his injured shoulder (he broke it one night months ago trying to stop the storm-broken bow from landing on another crew member) seize up. But the sailor was determined not to let it slow him down. As soon as he resurfaced in the dirty, frothy water, he spotted the net and swam towards it as fast as he could manage. The cold water slapped at his face and the salt stung his eyes, but he kicked hard anyway. As he came up to the drowning man, he seemed to flail even worse.

 

“Hang on-! Just hang on!” John tried to calm the man down, but he was struggling too hard against the net and attempting to wriggle away from John. The man struggled so much that he slammed his head hard against the cliff behind them. While they were struggling, a wave overtook them and knocked the injured man into the hard rock again. At this, he stopped struggling and fell limp.

 

“ _Shit._ ” John cursed to himself. He quickly pulled his knife from his belt and started to saw at fistfuls of rope. The sailor was repeatedly tossed into the cliff side while trying to keep the unconscious man’s head afloat as he cut the net. Eventually he was able to cut a large enough hole in the tangled net to free the injured man. John pushed off from the cliff side and paddled backwards against the current, holding the unconscious man to his chest. He struggled his way to chest-deep water and faced the beach, dragging the man by his bicep behind him. _Just hold on. My home isn’t far from here._ When they reached the sand (high tide, John noticed), John stopped and twisted to tend to the man, but then jumped back in surprise. Yellowish-green scales covered the man’s entire lower body, ascending up his hips and the sides of his torso and dipping low in a V-shape in the front, which ended just at the tip of his pelvic bone. Where John expected to see legs, he found only a tail. Instead of toes, he found fins. What shocked John the most was the array of four gills on either side of the man’s neck. John’s first impulse was to make sure the man - mermaid? - he rescued was still breathing. To his relief he saw the pale chest move up and down, but the breaths were sharp and shallow. He hastily knelt down in the frigid water, cupped his hands, and tossed seawater onto the creature’s neck. After a moment he noticed, to his relief, that the creatures gills were working and his chest was expanding to accommodate the increase in breathing.

 

John quickly glanced around him to make sure no one had seen the mermaid, then picked the surprisingly light creature up and hiked back to his small house, stumbling in the cold sand from his stiff limbs. Swaying through the doorway, he veered to the left and into his washroom. Placing the man in his arms in the large tub, he dodged for a bucket in the corner behind the door and ran back outside to grab some ocean water. John then sprinted back to his house,dumped the water onto the mermaid, and repeated the process until the tub was almost full. Normally, John would have heated the water in the fire and sat hot rocks in the bottom of the tub to keep warm, but he figured that could wait until after he made sure that the stranger was breathing properly.

 

After the frantic running back and forth, John was exhausted and freezing. He peeled off his still-soaked shirt and lit both the fireplace and the stove in the washroom. He then pulled a towel and a bandage from the linen cupboard and carefully knelt down next to the porcelain basin. Taking stock of the creature’s visible injuries, John determined a bleeding hand and the headwound to be the most pressing issues. Gingerly, John took the man’s lithe hand and dipped it into the water, dried it tenderly, then wrapped it in the clean, white cloth bandage. He admired the pale, smooth skin, taking in the little scars and edges. There was one in particular that caught his eye- a tiny, white scar on the back of his hand, just behind his thumb. It looked identical to the one John had on his own hand from when he got a hook caught in his skin. He smiled and looked back at the man as a whole. John assumed that the creature would be out for some time due to his head injury. There was really not a lot he could do about the man’s head, apart from washing away the worst of the blood. He was worried, but on the other hand he had seen his mates suffer worse bangs and bruises from swimming and accidentally getting thrown into harder, sharper rocks.

 

“A mermaid.” He stated to himself. People always claimed to see fish-people while they were out on the water. John had chalked it up to bad eyes and wives tales, but now that he had living proof of mer-people, how could he deny their existence?

 

He looked back at the man in his tub. His dark curls stuck to his face and neck, a lock of hair almost falling into the open “o” of his beautifully sculpted lips. A cloudy droplet of water was making its way down the side of his rosy face from one fan of long lashes. John’s gaze caught on the man’s throat, a single mole accentuating the paleness of its canvas. The lean slant of his shoulders and chest held John’s attention longer than he felt comfortable admitting, and he certainly would never tell that the man’s neck looked quite inviting to his lips. The mermaid -man?-, John realized, was quite beautiful, graceful hands and all.

 

He folded his arms and leaned against the edge of the tub, admiring the aesthetic of this mysterious creature. He should have been afraid. What if he was really as evil in nature as everyone said? What if John was drowned because he was caught off guard? Honestly, he didn’t care. There was a mystical sort of attraction, and he found that he couldn’t look away. John trailed his eyes down to the creature’s seaweed-coloured tail and noticed the faint shimmer in the scales. He tilted his head and stared at the iridescent change in colour. A small smile covered his lips. There was a tiny splash in the water and John looked up, dazed.

 

The creature was staring at him, stock still, with the most intensely blue eyes John had ever seen. A warm feeling radiated in his chest and he let his mouth fall ajar. He was captivated and then suddenly, he wasn’t. The warmth drained from his chest while his head cleared and his limbs stopped feeling so relaxed. John sat back on his heels, away from the man.

 

“What the hell was that?” he demanded, only briefly considering that he might not speak English.

 

Something flickered in the man's eyes, and he violently jumped back, clawing his way backwards, sloshing water everywhere. John registered that the something was in fact fear mixed with desperation.

 

“Hey-! Hey, hang on. Just- just calm down.” John tried to sooth the man, kneeling up and reaching out. The creature flinched and recoiled viciously at the gesture and managed to push himself over the side of the tub, sending his tail flapping dangerously close to John’s face.

 

“ _Fuck._ ” The man hissed, alleviating John’s doubts about the mermaid speaking English. Cautiously, he peered around the side of the tub to see the mermaid clutch his head. _Serves the bastard right for… whatever that was._

 

“You banged your head pretty hard out there.” John offered, slightly irritated.

 

The man jumped a little and sat up, forcing John to follow his motion. He stared coldly at John and remained still. John noted that the mermaid was breathing shallowly. “If you’re not breathing well, you should probably get back in the water.”

 

“Point me to the sea and I will.” The man growled.

 

“I don’t trust the sharks.” John deadpanned. He knew it was going to be a battle of chicken. The man would stay where he was at, unmoving until John helped him to the ocean. That wasn’t happening. He really didn’t trust the sharks to not eat the creature in his injured state.

 

Both men jumped as a loud knock sounded at the door.

 

“Get in the tub. I will be right back.” John ordered. “Do _not_ move.”

 

John stood up and walked through his home to the front door, opening it cautiously.

 

"Hey, John!" the man in front of him said, crowded by a few of his crewmates.

 

"Yeah," John looked behind him as the mermaid peevishly dragged himself back into the bath. "Hey."

 

"Wanted to come by to see if you were alright. We saw you jump off in a bustle. Left your clothes up there and everything. You okay mate?" He asked, slightly concerned when John glanced back again.

 

"I- uh, yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Saw someone drowning." He answered distractedly, looking back again. The mermaid had climbed entirely into the tub and sunk himself in the water up to his nose, his expression petulant. John smiled despite himself and looked back to his friends. They were looking at him curiously, observing his expression and state of undress with smirks of their own.

 

"Was a bird, wasn't it?" The one on the right said mischievously.

 

John opened his mouth to protest but he was interrupted by the sailor in front. "Well, I suppose we should let her thank you, then." With a wink, they trotted off, leaving John gaping in the doorway. _What a bunch of thick-_

 

"Am I being held captive?" Came a snide voice from the washroom.

 

John rolled his eyes and shut the door, making his way back to the mermaid. "No. Well, yes."

 

"I could murder you. I've done it with plenty of other sailors like yourself. The healing ones are especially _gullible_." He said the last word with a long hiss. “Plenty of ways to make them think you’re in need of their assistance.” A chill rolled down John's spine and he shook his head.

 

"I'm not keeping you like some sort of pet. I just don't like the idea of sending you out with a concussion and near-broken wrist." He responded, trying to ignore the implication that he was another gullible doctor assisting in his own certain death. “You can’t go outside.”

 

“So I’m just going to be left to sit here in my filth, captive to some _human_?” He spat, face scrunching into disgust.

 

“I’m not a bastard.” John warned with a head shake as he reached for the towel, meaning to wipe up some of the water. “I will get you what you need- that’s the whole point of not letting you go back out just yet. To make sure you don’t… die.”

 

“Do you intend to keep me until your trip next month?” The mermaid sunk into the water again, tail dangling over the edge of the tub.

 

“It depends- wait-?”

 

“The ships leave and return on a monthly basis. I watch them. You’ve just returned from a voyage - your nails are long, influenced by your crewmates, no doubt. They’re superstitious, and you’re not, seeing as you haven’t poached me or killed me yet.” The mermaid leaned his head back and sighed to the ceiling. “Sailors refuse to cut their hair or nails or shave while at sea, and you humour them by following the assumption that it is bad luck.”

 

“Fantastic.” John breathed.

 

“Logic.” he corrected.

 

John finished wiping at the small puddle and stood, a small grin gracing his lips. “What’s your name?”

 

The mermaid gave an even glance. “Sherlock.”

 

“Right, well, Sherlock,” John started. “My name is John. And you’ll have to rest now. The sooner you’re better, the sooner you can return.”

 

“Marvelous.” Sherlock muttered sulkily under the water, bubbles rising up through a cerulean tint.

 

“That’s... brilliant.” John whispered, staring at the water, mesmerised by blue glow that surrounded the mermaid as he talked.

 

Sherlock glanced at John, taking in the impressed expression, a ball of pride growing in his chest. “You like it?”

 

John nodded a response, staring at some of the random tendrils that floated away from the glow Sherlock’s lips produced. John shook his head and refocused. “Earlier, you… you did something. When you first woke up. I…” He felt silly mentioning his captivation, but his curiosity won out against his embarrassment. “I, uh-”

 

“Seduction,” Sherlock explained. “It’s a defense mechanism- we charm our predators.”

 

“But also a trap.” John pieced together.

 

“Well, yes. A sirens song, essentially. Did you know that they don’t exist, sirens? All those sailors that go missing at sea, assumed to have been bewitched by those nasty little succubi?” John nodded, a pit growing in his stomach, not liking the way this conversation was going. He was still thinking of the comment about him being gullible. “ _That’s us._ ” he hissed, baring his sharp teeth, eyes changing from the bright, clear blue to a murky green. John stumbled back slightly, taking in the sight of Sherlock relaxing back into the cool porcelain, tail flicking lazily. “But of course, if you’d like to keep me, feel free. I’ll only _kill you while you dream._ ”

 

John clenched his jaw. “You won’t.”

 

“And what makes you so sure.”

 

“You said- you said you trick men. You tricked me. I thought you were drowning.” John said, stepping forward.

 

“Ah, yes. You’ve caught on. Smart mouse, but the cantil has already poisoned you.” He responded languidly, submerging himself further under the water.

 

“Yes, but you could have drowned me at any point, could have mauled me. Pretended to become unconscious again and then attacked me. _Seduced me_ ,” he mocked. “Into being comfortable.” John reasoned.

 

“It doesn’t mean I won’t do it eventually, when you’re more unprepared.” Sherlock shrugged, causing the water to wave.

 

“That is horseshit.” John laughed, not believing a word.

 

“Is it?”

 

“Yes, because,” John hummed angrily. “You could have killed me plenty of times already, and you banged your head too hard too many times out there to be hardly mobile enough. I’m not biting.”

 

Sherlock glanced at the doctor and finally slunk entirely under the water, arms crossed. John stood straight, smirking, feeling that he won the argument.

 

-

 

When he woke in the morning, it put to rest any fear that the mermaid really was going to kill him. John pulled bread from one of his cupboards and sliced a piece off to pop in his mouth while he prepared soup for lunch later in the day. He thought about the creature in his washroom and went to check on him.

 

“So, how is it I’m not dead? I thought you were going to ' _kill me while I dream_ '?” John asked, watching Sherlock pull himself up. He sat completely still, glaring at John. “You’re not going to talk now? You could at least tell me what you eat.”

 

“Men.”

 

“Interesting."

 

Sherlock donned a sad expression and laced his tone lightly with harmlessness. “Do you think I’m a savage _?_ ”

 

“You kill men for the sake of killing them. Yes, I think you can be a savage.” John sat on the floor, leaning on his arms while Sherlock's demeanor changed into a scowl.

 

“Tell me why you didn’t kill me.” John demanded suddenly. The question had been eating at him since he realized the mermaid’s "intentions."

 

Sherlock shrugged and stared into the corner.

 

" _I_ didn't kill _you._ I wanted to help you. Why didn’t _you_ kill _me_?"

 

Sherlock shrugged again and John laid on his back with an exasperated sigh.

 

A minute passed and then, "I don't know." John lifted his head and stared at the source of the sound.

 

"What?"

 

Sherlock sat up straight and turned to John. " _I don't know, John._ I- I don’t- _Idon’tknowdon’tknowdon’tknow._ It was the plan. I-” His eyes frantically searched the room. “It wasn’t supposed to be this difficult. I’ve never had this much trouble _killing someone_.” Sherlock’s gaze froze on John as he sat up. “What are you doing? You’re doing something to me. _What is it!_ ” He leaned forward and gripped the edge of the tub, eyes swirling into a muddy green, sharp teeth bared.

 

“I haven’t done a damn thing to you.” John snapped as he scurried away from the basin.

 

Sherlock pulled away, face open and incredulous, the olive tint circling in his gaze and slowly fading back into a verdigris tone. He grasped at his hair and slid back into the water. John crawled slowly towards the creature and lightly reached past the edge of the porcelain and placed a gentle hand on one of the mermaids. _He’s scared, like a small child._ Frightened eyes slid to John and Sherlock stayed completely still, save for the hurried breaths in and out of his nose. The doctor tugged the injured hand out of the curls and replaced it with his own.

 

“You’re not gonna drown me right now, are you?” John teased lightly with a serious face. Sherlock swallowed and shook his head, lowering his other hand into the water. “I haven’t done anything to you. What do you think I did?”

 

“I know of other,” he paused. “Creatures, you would call them. They have magic similar to mine, can cast spells, charm others into… into a certain mindset.” Sherlock muttered, staring into the water. “I’ve had it done to me many times. I usually find it pleasing, but it is particularly unpleasant when they alter specific thoughts. I don’t like it when that happens. It’s unsettling.”

 

“Well, I’m not a witch if that’s what you’re saying. I’ve no magic.”

 

“Yes, I’ve deduced, but I can’t explain it any other way.” Sherlock responded quietly.

 

“You’re saying I’ve charmed you?” John grinned, sitting back on his heels, shaking his head. The intense moment was broken with the joke and the coils of tension faded.

 

“Yes, I suppose so.” John snapped his head to look at the mermaid. He had his entire head under the water again and more blue whirls curled from his mouth, eyes closed. “The most charming human I’ve ever met, in fact. The rest were all boring and detestable.” John noted the past tense. “Predictable. Gullible. You, however,” Sherlock opened his eyes and looked directly at John, sending a ripple through his stomach. “Are less so.”

 

A half smile graced John’s lips at the almost-compliment, a warm wisp shuddered through his chest, and he could tell it had nothing to do with a siren's song. His neck heated with affection and he folded his hands on the edge of the basin.

  
 _Those injuries,_ John thought, _can take their time healing._

**Author's Note:**

> Remember to send in prompts to either our submit or ask box at http://bakerbitches.tumblr.com/  
> Progress on fics is often documented there as well as whole-hearted fuckery concerning documents or teamspeak shenanigans.
> 
> Mermaid!lock and Sailor!John might return in the future. Keep an eye open for it. I have a few ideas swirling around in my head that could turn into a read at any moment. Also, sorry about the wait. Writers block and that.
> 
> Users who worked on this:  
> thischickisofftopic/aggressivelytwerkinganderson.t.c  
> smutmuffin  
> cumbermyspock.t.c
> 
> Document Fuckers:  
> imaginitis.t.c  
> http://petahmaximoff.co.vu/  
> moriartywillrise.t.c


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